


nothing more to say

by alainey



Series: Old Stuff from League of Fics [11]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst, F/F, Kissing, at all, but it was fun to write, overuse of hyphens, there's no context for this situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alainey/pseuds/alainey
Summary: She doesn’t know why Riven is letting her do this–she’s the Sinister Blade, of all people, and it’s not like their relationship had ever been built off of trust. And yet, letting her she was, and Katarina was damn well going to take what she could get.Alternatively: In which Katarina finds there’s so much that can be learned in a single person’s face, and Riven silently wonders where she learned to be so gentle.





	nothing more to say

The woman before her is silent, blindfolded, and sitting in her chair with an odd sort of calm that’s unbecoming of the situation.

She doesn’t know why Riven is letting her do this—she’s the Sinister Blade, of all people, and it’s not like their relationship had ever been built off of trust. And yet, letting her she was, and Katarina was damn well going to take what she could get.

She studies Riven’s features with undisclosed interest—taking in the sight of the strong shoulders that are still more defined than Katarina’s own. Riven’s arms rest uncomfortably by her sides, and to Katarina, it looks almost as if she’s gripping at the edges of the chair like anchors to her sanity.

And perhaps, Katarina grins, Riven isn’t quite as calm as she appears.

Her fingers run over Riven’s face with a grace that—in typical circumstances—only seems to show itself in battle. They trace over the woman’s cheek, where rests the characteristic white paint that Katarina has always thought unnecessary.

Leaning closer, she can see the paint’s imperfect border, and she smears the edge lightly with her finger.

Her legs and back are cramping as she bends over to study the other woman’s sharp features, and so Katarina sits down in Riven’s lap, carefully—with a sort of awkward lack of confidence that causes her face to involuntarily heat. Riven makes a small noise of surprise, the lines around her blindfold thinning, and she brings her arms up to steady the other woman’s waist. Katarina grits her teeth.

“Don’t touch me,” she hisses, voice strangled and face still flushed, and Riven’s hands around her still. “Don’t touch me,” Katarina repeats, softer this time, and watches as Riven’s arms fall loosely at her sides.

The red haired woman takes a breath to orient herself, jaw loosening as she takes in the Exile’s confused face once more. Riven’s hair falls light against her face—thin white bangs framing her jaw, forehead, and blindfold covered temples. They fall with a haphazard looseness unlike the woman herself, and Katarina reaches out to grasp a thin strand between her fingers. The individual strands of hair are stiffer than her own, Katarina realizes, but still just as soft and airy.

Katarina drops the hair with a small huff, and her fingers finding their way to Riven’s pale forehead, before moving her fingers down again to Riven’s blindfolded temple.

The Exile’s eyes are covered by the blindfold—which is a shame, Katarina knows, because Riven’s eyes have always been almost blindingly bright (and yet, she reminds herself, the blindfold is a necessity). They’re a sharp hazel, the Noxian woman recalls as her fingers press light against the contours of Riven’s face beneath the thin cloth, a sharp, yet understanding hazel.

The eyelids beneath her fingers are almond shaped, but not overly so, and Katarina can trace each eye’s opening from soft angle to soft angle. Her pinky fingers lead the rest of her hand to focus on the older woman’s temples, and her thumbs brush over the sharp edges of Riven’s face.

Katarina remembers the days when Riven had massaged her temples after long training sessions—the soldier in her weary of her life and of her peers. Katarina had watcher her then, with a mixture of awe and spiteful envy, and she had studied her, with scrutiny not unlike what she was doing now.

Katarina shifts her attention to Riven’s nose. To be completely honest, Katarina had never really liked Riven’s nose. Its placement is perfect, and it rises with thin efficiency from the rest of her face But its symmetry is off, Katarina knows—just a bit at the tip. Possibly, she hums to herself, as her index finger slides down Riven’s nose’s peak, the result of a friendly childhood scuffle.

Katarina’s eyes move down to rest on the other woman’s mouth.

Her lips are thin, simple—the unobtrusive lips of a soldier. They aren’t lush and seductive, like Katarina’s sister’s, nor the hard and unpronounced line of her brother’s. Katarina settles her thumb over the edge of Riven’s mouth, gently, and runs the pad over its edge. They are simply Riven’s lips.

Riven sucks in a breath, and Katarina feels her mouth go dry. Riven’s lips. Beautiful, terrible, Riven’s lips. She tries to make herself continue—she had planned to look at Riven’s jaw next, at the sharp, angular crispness of Riven’s jaw—and she had planned, in all honesty, to conclude her study with Riven’s chin. She had planned to stand up, walk away, and be content with knowing every inch of Riven’s face–every contour of her sharp, soldierly features.

And had planned, Katarina knows, to not get stuck on such a simple thing as Riven’s lips.

She had known about her careful admiration for the other woman for a long time—and she had buried them deep within herself for even longer. And yet, her fingers still tremble as they run across the other woman’s jaw, cupping at her face, and her eyes once again draw carefully across Riven’s mouth.

Katarina had not planned for this.

It is at that moment then—at the height of Katarina’s uncertainty and the uncomfortable confusion of Riven’s blindfolded being—that Riven decides to wet her lips. It’s a simple sharp dart of the tongue that Katarina almost misses, and it’s because of that one small move that Katarina, despite all the misgivings still churning their way through her gut, simply decides to let herself fall.

She kisses Riven then–soft and desperate–and a small part of her stills in preparation for Riven to push her away, in preparation for the consequent shocked outrage.

However, when neither denial comes, that small bit of sense simply fades, and Katarina’s last inkling of caution makes way for the innocent push of normally foul-tongued lips.

Katarina kisses her deeper—mind devoid of all rational thought—simply pouring out her soul with the sort of careful longing that she had been saving since the day the two had met. She lays her feelings bare in that one, damnable kiss, and Riven simply lets her.

The Noxian woman’s hands tangle in Riven’s hair, thumbs once again pressed light against her temple. Her fingers run rough against the other woman’s scalp, heavy yet reverent, and Katarina—proud, determined killer that she is—kisses Riven the way she had wanted to when she was 19 and in love.

And then, all at once, everything in the room seems to stop.

And then, all at once, Katarina pulls away—lips bruised and breath thin.

And then, all at once, Katarina is hit with a sudden single truth that makes her breath catch in her throat and her fingers tremble in the airy lightness of Riven’s hair.

For Riven had not been kissing back.

She had been open and willing—undeniably understanding. She hadn’t even pushed her away, as Katarina had originally thought she would. And yet—despite it all—Riven had not reciprocated. And such a denial hurts Katarina more than she’d ever imagined it would.

Riven smiles from her seat, strangely sad, and opens her mouth as if to speak. But Katarina does not wish to talk.

The red haired woman curses under her breath—effectively silencing the other woman’s words—before leaping away with a sudden, crushing disgust—at herself, at the situation, at god damn Riven for even letting her do this—and the immediate realization that, whatever Riven’s reasons are, whatever her excuses, Katarina simply doesn’t want to hear them.

And so, by the time that Riven has the sense enough to remove her blindfold—the strength enough to say the few quiet words she needed to—it simply stands to reason that Katarina has already fled.

And Riven curses them both for being such cowards.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really remember what I was planning when I wrote this. It's from mid-2014. Regardless, Kat/Riven was actually my very first ship for this fandom and I remember pouring my heart and soul into it haha. I haven't edited anything from when I first posted it on leagueoffics - I used to use way too many hypens. 
> 
> Find me [here](https://twitter.com/alainey_lee) on twitter!


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